Keeping Your Head Up
by left write left
Summary: "I don't know how to be someone's reason for existing when I can't even be that for myself." "Then just… be." / When Grace packed her bags and tried to run away from herself, she didn't expect to run right into someone's arms. Collin was warm, kind and more than she could've dreamed of. But falling in love is hard when you feel like you've already fallen somewhere much deeper.
1. WINTER

_hi there. before you read this story i want you to know something: this character and her experiences (sans supernatural boyfriend and cross-country move to mysterious small town) are largely autobiographical. i started writing this as a source of comfort when i was going through a really rough time. writing has always been a way for me to cope or to learn more about myself. so writing about imprinting- -this idea of true and unconditional love- -is a way for me to explore my own feelings about trust and love. which, for the longest time, was something i wasn't sure i was capable of. the rejected summary for this story was: "a sad bitch learns how to love and be loved." which is something i've been trying to learn myself. _

_maybe modeling a character after yourself isn't the best writing technique, but this story is first and foremost, for me. but with that being said, i still hope people like it. and if you are someone who sees yourself in this story: keep going, keep growing._

* * *

_All I can do to keep you safe is hold you close  
until you can breathe on your own  
***_

**January 31, 2017 / 11:35 a.m. **

She figured the sadness must have come to her in the same way the color of her hair and the slope of her nose did. Like her genes, she was made of it. It sat in her bones and swirled in her eyes. Slow and sticky, it ran black through her veins like tar.

It made her heavy. Some days, the weight was bearable. Today, it crushed down. Held her hostage on the mattress, as she listened to the lively tone of the alarm she set on her phone go off, simultaneously vibrating against the kitchen counter where she'd left it before collapsing into bed last night.

She was wondering how long it would take for the device just to die- -the battery had been at 13% when last she checked- -when it changed to her phone call ringtone. Slowly, she sat up and swung her legs onto the floor. Every joint creaked in protest. The world swam in and out of focus, her bleary eyes blinked rapidly in an effort to banish the inky spots in her vision.

She should eat something.

The ringing persisted. She recognized the number instantly: it was her mom. Her hand hesitated, hovering a few inches away from her phone. Another second or so, and it would go to voicemail. Despite the dread pooling in her stomach, she pressed the green button at the last possible moment.

She coughed to clear her throat before answering, but it didn't do much. Her voice was scratchy from lack of use, "Hello?"

"Were you asleep?"

"No."

"Isn't it noon out there?" She always called Washington _out there_, and even though it had been framed a question, her mother knew exactly what time it was. Which was technically 11:38, not noon.

The silence on the other end of the line was loaded. Her mother was actually expecting her to respond. Not for confirmation, but rather as a confession. With no other option, she mumbled, "Not quite."

A deep sigh, "Grace."

"_Yes_?" She knew exactly where this was going, and it made her snappish.

Grace let herself tune out this part of the conversation. The part where her mother lamented that she still didn't understand why she had to leave like she did. How Grace hadn't considered what it would be like for her to open the door to her daughter's room and find it empty, except for a letter. "You have no idea what I was thinking, Grace."

Grace had slowly faded away from the world, and everyone who loved her could do little but watch. She had a pretty good idea what her mother was thinking that day, and she still felt a twinge of guilt in her stomach.

She hadn't thought about that when she wrote the letter at 2:00 that morning. She hardly thought about the words she was scribbling on the page because she could only think in numbers: the miles she longed to put between herself and this house, this city, this _life_. The seconds that had raced around her stagnant body for far too long.

She would not stand still any longer. She moved forcefully- -shoving things into suitcases, practically running out of the house and into her car, peeling out of the driveway.

"You would have tried to stop me." Her voice was a watery whisper. As much as it hurt to leave them behind, she couldn't be stifled any longer. Maybe one day she would wake up and be glad that she did, but until then… she would be here. She could wait for that day, she could _fight_ for that day for herself. Sometimes, the worst thing people could be was supportive. It felt like she had a deadline.

"When are you coming home?"

"I don't know." Another despairing sigh crackled through the receiver. The poisonous thing that lived inside her awoke, merciless and ravenous. "I'm sorry you have to lie when people ask how I'm doing. It must be really hard for you."

"Grace..." The warmth in her mother's voice had been carved out. What was left was hollow and weary and utterly unrecognizable.

"I'm sorry, Mom." But even the apology was not without a quiet harshness. The phone went dead. Grace held it in front of her, staring at the device as if it was to blame.

**February 3, 2017 / 2:09 p.m. **

For the first time since her arrival last month, it wasn't precipitating. That was another thing her mother "just can't understand." She'd read online that gray skies and rain were a catalyst for depressive moods- -there was enough research and medical support on the subject that Grace should've set her course for Arizona or southern California, instead of the grayest sliver of American sky- -but she thought that it might be nice to have something to blame for them.

Although the clouds still hung heavy, the fortuitous dryness of the air had inspired Grace to wiggle into a pair of jeans, and go outside. Specifically, she wanted to see the ocean. Coming from the landlocked Midwest, she'd only seen it once on a family vacation to Hawaii when she was twelve. A lifetime ago, it seemed.

Unsurprisingly, the beach was abandoned. It was only February, so it was frigid by the ocean. The cold winter air nipped at her face, waking up her cheeks. She'd always loved that feeling. She unrolled her towel onto the freezing, soggy sand and sat down. It was only a few minutes before the water and grit were seeping through both the towel and her jeans, and clinging to her skin.

It was strange that the sound of the slate colored waves raging against one another was so calming. Grace could not remember a time that she was so content to be alone.

The tranquility, however, did not last long. Boisterous laughter and shouting snatched Grace's attention: crashing through the underbrush and shoving at one another, emerged a large group of boys from the treeline.

Large, not only in the amount of members- -Grace could count seven- -but also in sheer physical size. All long limbs and broad shoulders, emphasized by the fact that not one of them was wearing a shirt. How could they stand to be dressed like that? The force of her shivers were making Grace's teeth clatter together so hard she was afraid it might do permanent damage, despite the fact she _was_ wearing a shirt, under a proper winter coat. And shoes. And two pairs of socks.

All at once, the boys seemed to notice her presence. They could probably feel her staring. One of them started staring back.

There was a surge in volume from the group, they started whooping and hollering and laughing. Quickly, Grace turned her face to the ocean.

And then someone was sinking into the arctic sand beside her, "Too cold for a swim?"

She turned to face the stranger and took in his appearance. His dark, rumpled hair flopped over his forehead boyishly, begging for fingers to run through it. It curled a little around his ears. There was not a single goosebump on his muscled chest. She averted her eyes before she could take too much notice of those muscles.

But she knew she was blushing when she asked dryly, "Too hot for a jacket?"

He smiled at that. "I don't get cold easy."

Grace's laugh manifested into a cloud. She looked at it pointedly as it disappeared, then at her company. Her eyebrows shot up.

"So, if you're not here to swim," he said, interrupting her skeptical appraisal. "What brought you to La Push?"

"How do you know I'm not from here?" Her voice was deadpan, but he caught her joke.

His laugh was warm and deep, "Just a hunch."

She shrugged, "The only time I ever left the Midwest was when I was still in middle school. We went on vacation to Hawaii. I missed the ocean."

"It's really something," he said, as if he were seeing it for the first time. Then admitted, "I haven't stopped to look at it in a while."

"I'd build a house right here if I could. With a porch to watch the sunsets from."

He kicked at the sand, "I wouldn't recommend that."

Grace rolled her eyes, nudging the body next to her with an elbow, "I said _if I could_."

"I'd do it up in the cliffs." He pointed, and Grace followed his finger up the rocky cliff face to the evergreen trees growing there. The low-hanging fog making it seem otherworldly. "The view's better up there."

Grace didn't doubt it, but she said, "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Then I guess I'll just have to take you," He said with a sigh, as if resigning himself to the task. But he was smiling.

"Oh, really?" She couldn't have fought back her returning smile, even if she'd wanted to. "Don't I get a say in the matter?"

"That depends. Are you gonna say no?"

"No." She said, but realized that she had in fact said _no_, which made both of them laugh. "I was going to say that I've been taught not to go into the woods with strange men that are twice my size."

"How specific."

Grace rolled her eyes, giving him another light shove. "You know what I mean," and before he could say something smart again, she continued, "Like, how do I know you're not a serial killer?"

Looking genuinely curious, he asked, "Do I _look_ like a serial killer?"

"They never do," Grace said pointedly.

"Well, I'm not."

She narrowed her eyes, "Unless you're just trying to lure me into a false sense of security."

"Is it working?"

Grace watched a playful grin that spread across his face, until it dimpled his cheeks, and shone in those dark eyes. The picture of happiness- -she still knew it when she saw it.

"Maybe."

"I'm Collin, by the way." He held out his hand.

She took it, and gave it a firm shake, "Grace."

Holding his hand in her frozen fingers felt like walking inside after being out in a blizzard. So warm it stung a little. Still, she entertained the idea of not letting go.

**February 6, 2017 / 1:19 p.m.**

For once in her life, Grace wasn't dreading answering the phone once it started to ring. Collin's name lit up the screen. She'd agreed to give him her phone number while he walked her to her car, so he could take her on that excursion to the cliffs over La Push sometime.

She barely got out greeting before Collin started talking, "I know I promised an adventure, but it's supposed to rain all week and I want to see you again."

Grace had never met someone so open in her life- -who just said what they were thinking, what they felt without the slightest hesitation. It was the sort of innocence that couldn't be outgrown, and Grace couldn't admire him more for it.

She was different, though. She didn't say what she was thinking, which was _Why would you want to do that? _Followed shortly by the feeling she ought to warn him about getting too close to her.

She just said, "Okay."

**February 10, 2017 / 6:55 p.m. **

It's hard to have fun when you don't want to have fun. Grace _wanted_ to want to have fun, but that seemed like an impossibility when Friday arrived.

She couldn't sum up the energy to get out of bed until 1:00 that afternoon, mindlessly watching episode after episode of the _Criminal Minds_ marathon on Ion. Grace had seen every episode to date, and despite the subject matter, her favorite show was a comfort. If not a bit lonely without Trina next to her, cringing at the gore and mooning over Agent Morgan.

She texted her childhood best friend, just to let her know she was thinking about her. The response was almost instantaneous: _OMG I'M WATCHING IT TOO! miss you so much gracie _

Grace read those two sentences over and over, unsure if it made her feel better or worse.

Her mood matched the weather, which was dreary enough for Grace to consider calling Collin and telling him she was sick. Which technically, wasn't a lie. She just wasn't the right kind of sick. But she could make up something about food poisoning.

_No. You've done this before_, she reminded herself. She'd smiled through drinks with her friends and danced at wedding receptions, and maybe even enjoyed most of it once she got over that hill. And dammit, she was going to climb today.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the slightly rusted bathtub. A brightening mask tingled her rosy cheeks as she massaged a homemade sugar scrub over her legs. It was an idea she'd found on a list of "Best Tips for Self-care" on Pinterest. Even though Grace knew that lighting a lavender scented candle and drinking green tea wasn't going to fix her, taking those extra minutes for herself had her feeling okay by the time she was swiping on a soft pink lipstick. The jeans and sweater combo she'd put together was cute enough, and there was a fluttering in her chest- -a nice change from the heaviness that typically resided there.

A heavy knock sounded.

Only someone who didn't quite know his own strength could rattle the door like that, but Grace still peered through the peep-hole before unlocking the door. He looked just as good in a pale blue button down as he had with no shirt at all. He'd combed his hair a little.

She'd given in to Collin's insistence- -he would be, supposedly, "a huge jackass" if he made her drive all the way to Port Angeles- -and agreed to let him pick her up, telling herself that there was no need to be embarrassed about the rundown apartment space she now called home. And if he thought it was strange she lived in a retired couple's converted basement, he didn't say anything.

"Hi," she said, stepping aside to let him in, suddenly feeling very shy.

Collin was looking around the room behind her curiously. It hadn't been long since she'd last cleaned up, so there weren't any dirty underwear lying on the floor, but Grace still felt strangely exposed as his eyes swept over the reddish wood panelled walls and green shag carpet that reeked of the seventies. The small kitchenette with its rusted appliances and white cabinets that didn't match the wood of the dresser, or the only half-full wardrobe that sat next to it.

But then, that gaze landed on her, shining and eager. With a jolt, Grace realized that she didn't want this- -the light in his eyes when he looked at her- -to fade. So she straightened her spine, adjusted her grip on her small purse, and with the biggest smile she could muster while still maintaining authenticity, said, "Are you ready?"

They drove to Port Angeles for dinner, because even though the food at the local diner was great, Grace wasn't thrilled by the idea of going on a date at the place she worked at on Tuesdays, Thursdays and weekends. Cora would never let her hear the end of it.

Between bites of the annoyingly delicious free bread at the quintessentially Pacific Northwestern seafood restaurant they'd decided on, she tactfully answered Collin's barrage of questions, talking about the last few weeks as though they were part of a grand adventure.

"I study English and creative writing, but I decided to take a semester off." Which was a gentle way of saying: _I stopped going to all of my classes, and failed the term so badly I received an academic dismissal._

"Why'd you choose to come here? Out of everywhere else?"

"I was shooting for Seattle, actually," she said, laughing at her own misfortune. Spotty cell service leading to a glitchy GPS as she headed north, only to veer too far west. By the time she'd realized what she'd done, she was surrounded by the Olympic National Forest.

Collin's massive shoulders seemed to stiffen, like he'd been taken by surprise. She couldn't get a read on his expression when he said, "Sounds like fate."

That was an awfully big word to be throwing around over the dinner table, but Grace had to agree that there was a certain _rightness_ about where she'd ended up. Forks had been the first town she stumbled across on that lonely stretch of highway, but she'd only planned on staying the night to rest and regroup. She could have been in Seattle by now, if she wanted to be.

"I like to think of it as a happy accident."

"So why Seattle, then?"

"There's the perfect mix of city and nature to explore. I could go kayaking one day, and to a poetry slam the next. I love how connected it is with music and literature."

"So, you've always been a big reader?"

Grace nodded enthusiastically, "I picked up _Harry Potter_ when I was eight, and I've been hooked ever since."

"Are they your favorite books?"

She thought about it for a moment. She'd read so many amazing books, and met such beautiful characters. But Albus Dumbledore had said it, and it was true: Hogwarts was always there for her. She nodded.

"Which one is your favorite?"

"You've read them?"

"Don't look so surprised," he laughed.

"Sorry," she winced, feeling her cheeks warm up.

"I'm just teasing," Collin said, then dropped his voice, "And to be honest, I only made it through the first three."

"_What?_" She felt her jaw drop. "Goblet of Fire is the best one!"

She considered for a moment, "No, second best. But still."

"I've seen all the movies," he offered. Grace shook her head disapprovingly.

"What? You don't like them?"

"No, of course I do!" She watched them every time ABC Family did Harry Potter Weekend. "I saw the last three on opening night."

"Nerd," he coughed, making himself laugh.

The lull in conversation, however brief, made Grace painfully aware of how much she'd just been rambling. Sheepishly, she turned back to her lobster mac and cheese. "Now that I've bored you half to death- -"

She had paused for a moment, trying to think of what she wanted to ask him. Most of their conversation had been about her. But before she could say anything, Collin was looking at her and shaking his head.

"No, don't apologize," His smile was warm and reassuring. "You lit up for a second there. I like that."

**February 14, 2017 / 10:10 p.m. **

"I told you this was a romantic movie."

Grace looked away from Simba and Nala's reunion to roll her eyes at Collin. When he'd suggested they celebrate Valentine's Day with a romance, she'd been expecting something a little more traditional.

"Yeah, wiping your tears away while you cried over Mufasa was _so_ romantic."

She'd said it to tease him, but the truth was that there really was something tender about that moment. Collin didn't try to hide the fact he was crying, nor did he flinch away from Grace's thumb when she brushed it across his damp cheek.

**_February 21, 2017 / 9:08 a.m._ **

Grace didn't turn her head at the sound of the bell when Collin stepped through the door behind Brady, who had yet to speak to Collin since he got into the truck twenty minutes ago-he wasn't a morning person. She was too busy with the elderly couple in the corner booth to notice them waiting to be seated. Unsurprisingly, she looked really cute in her apron with her strawberry-blonde hair swept up into a high ponytail.

From where he stood, he could see the side of her face, her smile flashing briefly and brilliantly at something the woman had said with a wink. He realized it had been a while since he'd seen that smile, since he'd seen Grace. It was beautiful- -_she _was beautiful.

Collin didn't realize his heart had started to beat faster until Brady turned around just to roll his eyes at him. Collin threw an elbow at him, "Shut up, asshole."

It wasn't long after they were seated that Grace approached the table, suppressing a smile and rolling her eyes, "What are you doing here?"

"Is that how you greet all of your customers?"

"Only the special ones."

The diner was surprisingly busy for a Tuesday, so Grace couldn't hover for long. So Collin and Brady sat in silence- -mostly because of Brady's lingering surliness- -and Collin watched her breeze around the tables. More than likely wearing a dopey smile.

She apologized for her negligence when she dropped off the checks.

"S'alright," Collin smiled, "But I will have to take that into consideration with your tip."

"Well if you wanted to have breakfast with me, you should have come to my apartment, not my job," she sassed back.

"Uh oh! You just lost another dollar."

Across the diner, a patron's hand shot up to catch Grace's attention, and she darted off to help them. But not before sneakily flipping him off behind the drink tray in her other hand.

Collin, of course, didn't make good on his threat, instead depositing an extra twenty on the table, along with a note scribbled on the back of a napkin,

_Use this to buy more snacks. _

Because all that girl had in her fridge was sriracha and yogurt.

**February 24, 2017 / 11:55 a.m. **

"Where've you been? I miss you."

"You just saw me on Tuesday."

"And now it's Friday and I miss you."

"Okay, clingy."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Seriously though… are you avoiding me?"

"No! I mean not on p-well, maybe. But it's just-I don't-and then you just…and I'm not-y'know?"

"... No."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think I'm starting to like you too much."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"I haven't decided yet."

**February 26, 2017 / 10:06 a.m. **

"Collin," Grace groaned, "You're making a mess."

When Collin had shown up on Grace's doorstep with an armful of ingredients, she was more than thrilled to let him in and show him where she kept her mixing bowl. That was, of course, before he'd actually started cooking. The small kitchenette was sprinkled with flour and sticky with egg whites- -Collin was an absolute tornado in the kitchen.

He looked up from the batter he was whisking at an alarming speed, to where Grace was perched on the counter and smiled, looking sheepish, "I know, I'm sorry. I'll clean it up, I promise."

Taking in those puppy-brown eyes and dimpled cheeks, Grace shook her head, "It's a good thing you're cute."

"Cute, or making you food?" Collin asked wryly.

Grace considered. The smell of the pancakes turning gold on the griddle was making a strong argument for the latter. Her silence was an answer enough for Collin. He laughed, "I can't even be mad. These are the second best pancakes in the world."

The recipe was his grandmother's. It was the first thing Collin ever learned to cook, back when he needed a stool to see over the stove. His grandmother always used blueberries fresh from her garden, and for that reason, Collin was convinced that his pancakes would never be quite as good as hers.

She might have been drooling slightly as she watched him flip one, which made for a pretty unconvincing, "I'll be the judge of that."

The stack was still steaming when Collin set it in front of her, but that didn't stop Grace from cutting into them immediately. Her eyes watered with that first bite, and she was unsure if it was because of the hot blueberry exploding on her tongue, or if these pancakes were so good, they had actually moved her to tears.

Collin was looking at her rather smugly, but rather than poke at his expanding ego, Grace said, "Next time someone at the diner orders pancakes, I'm sending them to your house."

He beamed at her, soaking up the praise like a damned sponge. It was adorable.

Shifting herself up in her seat, Grace leaned in and kissed his flour dusted cheek.

**March 7, 2017 / 8:30 p.m. **

Collin was sprawled out on the ugly carpet, dark brows knitted together in concentration as he shuffled his letter tiles around in front of him. A fuzzy episode from season five of _Criminal Minds_ was playing almost inaudibly on the TV, but it kept steering Grace's attention away from her own tiles.

"Are you kidding me?" Collin suddenly blurted, his voice, much like his body, too big for the room.

Grace's head turned from the screen to see Collin staring at her incredulously. "What?"

"Oh-sten-" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "What does that even say?"

"Ostentatious," she corrected. "It means over-the-top, or showy."

Collin's lips quirked into a teasing half-smile, "Kind of like using that word?"

Her jaw dropped, "You are such a sore loser!"

"You're brilliant." His response was instantaneous, and so sincere that Grace wasn't sure Collin had meant to say it at all. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "_And_ a cheater."

Grace shrugged modestly, although her cheeks warmed at the compliment. "I'm an English major."

Grace won the game, but barely. Collin realized quickly that she didn't like to make small words, so if he made them, and did it fast enough, he could overwhelm her. It was just luck that most of the many tiles she had in her pile could be used to make the word 'onomatopoeia.'

When she suggested another round, Collin suddenly gained interest in the high-intensity chase happening on the screen.

As the sun went down, the pair moved from the floor to the bed with Grace buried under the blankets and Collin lounging next to her, on top of them. He slung an arm around her, and it was like the chill in the air had never existed.

Collin never got cold, even in her little basement with the February air sneaking in through the egress window. He was wearing basketball shorts and an old t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Under all the blankets, Grace had on her favorite sweatpants- -which were probably big enough to fit Collin- -and a thermal shirt.

This night, in all of its stained sweats and slightly greasy French braided glory, was one of the most peaceful nights she remembered having in a long time.

"Holy shit," Collin breathed.

Grace arched her neck so she could see his face. He was watching the screen with a grimace. She heard the desperate screams of the victim, then the squelch of a knife meeting flesh. Some of the color drained from Collin's cheeks.

"No wonder you were so sure I was going to murder you."

"I'm still not convinced you aren't," she said lightly, even as she snuggled closer. His arm tightened around her shoulders.

She was almost asleep when her phone started chiming. She was tempted to ignore the reminder to take her medication, despite the consequences. But then Collin asked, "What's that?"

She sighed in annoyance as she pushed herself off the mattress and into the uninviting cold of her room, "I have to set an alarm to remember to take my antidepressant, or I'll forget."

Grace shuffled to the bathroom and dispensed a 350 mg tablet into her palm. She sat back down next to Collin, and reached for her water bottle on the night stand on her side of the bed. After knocking back the pill, she settled into the pillows.

The rest of the episode had passed in silence. Collin had stopped commenting on the show, his string of questions had unravelled. During the commercial break before the next one started, Grace turned around and looked at him through narrowed eyes, "You're being weird."

He didn't even try to deny it. He was looking at her carefully, a crease between his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"I mean- -the medicine." He fumbled for words, "Does it… work?"

What a loaded question. She didn't know how to answer it when the doctor asked during her last checkup, and she certainly doesn't know how to answer it now. It was hard to tell where her personality ended and her mood disorder began. She'd been like this for so long, trying to remember who she was before was like looking through a dirty window- -it was impossible to make out the details.

Maneuvering herself so she was sitting on his lap, Grace let out a heavy breath, "I haven't been completely honest with you…"

Collin stilled, and Grace winced. She probably could have started this conversation differently. She wished she hadn't even started it in the first place, but she knew it was too late for that. Grace could tell that Collin was trying to keep his face neutral, as he waited for her to continue, but she already knew him too well for that. His shoulders had gone stiff, and his eyes were darting all over the place. He cracked his knuckles one at a time, as if to fill the silence.

"It's not what you're thinking- -" She started, but quickly realized that she didn't actually know what he was thinking. Maybe whatever he'd conjured up in his head was so bad that when she told him the truth, it wouldn't seem like such a burden.

She didn't want Collin to realize how heavy she truly was, that she might as well be an iron ball tethered to his ankles. But she also knew he deserved to know. So she tried again, "I just… I didn't come to Washington for a gap year. I got dismissed from the school for my grades and attendance record."

There. She said it. She said it and the world didn't stop spinning.

Collin's shoulders deflated just a little. The crease between his brows smoothed for only a second before he seemed to fully understand what she'd said, "Why?"

"Last year I… I just got so _sad_. For no reason. But I still couldn't make myself get out of bed for class or anything else," She should know better than to feel so embarrassed, but in all of the times she'd had this conversation, Grace had never felt anything but small. She started tracing the lines on Collin's palms with her fingers to avoid his gaze.

"So after I received the dismissal, I packed my bags and…"

"You just… ran?"

Grace looked at Collin and tried to smile, "Actually, I drove."

His expression mirrored hers: a tenuously placed smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He was looking at her expectantly.

"It was just too much. And the medicine has helped a lot, but…" She hadn't missed a shift at the diner, and she was consistently doing her laundry. "But sometimes I still wake up in the morning wishing I hadn't, and I don't even know why."

The admission made Collin flinch, and Grace shrank even smaller, curling into him with their fingers still linked together in her lap. The shame was as endless as the sky, and she was Atlas, struggling under its weight.

Collin squeezed her hands just enough to let her know he was there. A reassurance so gentle it made her want to cry. She could feel it behind her eyes when she finally looked up at him.

"I didn't want to say anything because, well, it's not the easiest conversation to have with someone you want to like you."

"Thank you for telling me," he said. His voice was rough, and the look in his eyes made her chest cave in.

He pulled her so close, her response was pressed into the warm skin on his neck, "Thank you for listening."

**March 8, 2017 / 12:14 a.m. **

"If you decide to drive away again, can you at least give me a heads up?"

"Why?"

"So I can give you a ride- -you are a terrible driver."


	2. SPRING

**A/N: hi! i just wanted to give a quick thank you to everyone who's followed, favorited, and commented. i really appreciate it! and thanks for sticking around and waiting for this next part. i'm a **_**really **_**slow writer and historically very bad at updating my stuff, and this story has been giving me a lot of trouble. that said, being quarantined means i don't really have much else to do, so maybe i'll get the last section done soon-ish. speaking of quarantine, i hope y'all are staying safe! **

**and while i'm thinking about safety, some of these scenes take place during a depressive episode. it's not horribly detailed, but if that is something you don't think you should read (use your best judgement!) please skip the **_**April 23, 2017 / 3:49 p.m. **_**and **_**April 26, 2017 / 9:55 p.m. **_**entries. **

**(also, i feel like i should probably mention that the title and little lyric snippets at the start of the chapters are from the song 'keeping your head up' by birdy)**

* * *

_And when you come looking for embrace,  
__I know your soul, I'll be your home_

**March 25, 2017 / 3:44 p.m. **

By the time the sun had finally shown up, Grace was sure that Collin had forgotten all about his promise to take her hiking. He looked genuinely offended when she mentioned this to him.

To Grace's pleasant surprise, the climb wasn't too rigorous. There was just enough of a throb in her thighs by the time they reached the crest of the cliffs to remind her that she hadn't worked out in a long time. Her heavy breaths were fueled by fresh, mountain air. She was too invigorated to feel exhausted. And while she had been satisfied with her ability to make it to the top without slowing down, Collin looked as if he hadn't been right beside her for the past two and a half miles. There was no exerted flush to his cheeks. His shoulders weren't heaving in time with hers.

An easy grin spread across his face as he looked down at her, catching her staring. Everything about him- -whether it was hiking up a mountain or just smiling- -was so _effortless_. It was infuriating.

With a scowl, Grace flipped him off.

Collin just laughed and snatched her hand out of the space between them and guided her close enough to the cliff's edge so she could see the churning water below, but not close enough to risk taking an icy plunge.

There was a lethal beauty to it. She stared, transfixed.

"I thought you might like this view," he said after letting her drink it in.

Grace shrugged nonchalantly, even though her smile was telling, "It's okay."

They sat on a tattered blanket to eat the spread of sandwiches, grapes and cheese crackers Collin had packed. Even when the sun started going down, and it started to get cold again, Grace wasn't quite ready to hike back. The sky was still clear, and she had missed the stars.

Collin built what Grace was sure was an illegal fire, but when she mentioned it, Collin just winked at her. They sat next to it, with Grace tucked against Collin's chest. She leaned her head against his shoulder to look up at the sky. Maybe it was the most beautiful expanse of stars she'd ever seen. Or maybe she'd been pinned under the clouds for too long. It didn't matter.

The only reason Grace looked away was to look at Collin, so she could thank him for sharing this with her. She didn't realize until after she'd twisted around just how close they were to each other.

Close enough to share a breath, if Grace hadn't suddenly found herself holding hers. She was frozen as she stared at Collin's lips and the gap between them and her own. A massive palm cupped her face, and she wasn't sure if the heat was radiating from her cheeks or Collin's skin.

His thumb traced over her bottom lip, and Grace exhaled shakily. Collin let his hand slide down her cheek until his fingers were tucked ever-so-gently under her chin. He nudged her head back, just a little. Just enough.

Collin's lips were warm, and his kiss felt like falling. Not like lightning-struck trees or empires, but softly. It felt like raindrops or flower petals. Sleepy eyelids. It was gentle, but it was still falling. A quiet rush that made her stomach drop and turned everything around them into a blur.

_**March 29, 2017 / 11:15 p.m.**_

"So, how's it going with Sylvia Plath junior?" Paul asked casually. "You ever gonna bring her around?"

Collin glared sharply. Thoughts of Grace and her health were a tidal wave that threatened to consume Collin regularly, and he was close to pulling his brothers under as well.

He worried about her almost constantly, then felt bad for worrying because he knew she didn't want him to worry. And he felt guilty for wondering about what would happen to _him_ if she… No. He wasn't going to think like that anymore.

Not that Paul was making it easy.

Jared- -who had always seemed more like Paul's conscience than his best friend- -gave him a sideways look, "Dude."

Unbothered, Paul met his stare, raising his eyebrows and shrugging, "What?"

"I'm just surprised he even knows who Sylvia Plath _is_," Brady cut in with a snort, and Collin almost laughed.

Collin was thankful for Sam's howl, signifying that it was time to switch shifts. Normally, Collin hated patrolling at this hour, but he was now looking forward to the chance to run off some of his anxiety.

And, on an entirely unrelated note, Paul wasn't in this rotation.

_Sorry about Paul_, Jared's voice popped into his head shortly after phasing.

_Not your fault. _

_I know, I just… _Collin couldn't even follow Jared's thoughts for a moment. They were a flustered mix of pity and worry, while trying not to come across as either. _It wasn't cool._

At this, Collin did laugh a little.

As soon as he was back on two feet, Collin called Grace.

"H'lo?" she mumbled, her voice scratchy and thick. Collin winced, pressing his fingers into the tough flesh of his neck. He'd been so deep in his own head after his conversation with Paul and the guys that he'd forgotten what time it was.

"Collin?" She prompted, her voice coming back to her now.

"I'm here," he affirmed. She didn't say anything else, no doubt waiting for him to explain why he'd called her in the middle of the night. But now that he was hearing her voice, he felt ridiculous.

After another moment of anxious fidgeting, he blurted, "Are you doing okay?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line, "I told you not to worry about me so much."

That wasn't an answer.

But before he could probe her for one, or apologize for waking her up for this, she was speaking again, in a voice that was soft and careful, "I'm okay."

"You would tell me if you weren't, right?"

There was a pause, "Yes."

**April 2, 2017 / 12:00 a.m. **

Collin was staring. He did this often, especially when it was quiet. The teasing and laughter that came with the absurdity of making breakfast in the middle of the night had faded into a comfortable silence. There was soft smile on his face, just the slightest tilt of the corner of his mouth, like he didn't know it was there, as he watched her carve out wedge of pancake from the stack in front of her.

Grace couldn't even find it in herself to be embarrassed by his attention. At least, not anymore. At one time, it might have made her hyper-aware of the syrup dripping onto her chin, and the fact that the blueberries might have stained her teeth.

Now, she just felt her heart swelling until it felt too big for her chest.

She had never felt something like that before. She hadn't felt much of anything recently. But there she was, sitting in a dark kitchen, realizing that the feeling in her chest wasn't her heart inflating; it was Collin wheedling his way in there.

She raised her eyebrows, "What?"

Collin's smile spread wider, "You know what."

The smile finding its way onto her own face was a silent promise to make room for him. Because she did know.

**April 18, 2017 / 4:12 p.m. **

Even though it wasn't raining that afternoon, the ground was too wet and sludgy to stretch out on, so Collin had pried open the old egress window to let the fresh air in. The warm afternoon sunlight seemed to make the pages of the book propped up against Grace's leg glow.

With a sigh, Grace settled further into his side, and Collin's arm tightened around her waist in a distracted hug. Most of his attention was directed at the hardcover edition of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_, which he held comfortably in his free hand like it wasn't one of the heaviest books on the shelves, the spine supported by his broad palm and long fingers.

**April 23, 2017 / 3:49 p.m. **

She'd felt it coming. She was sleeping too much, but was still so tired. No, exhausted. Maybe that was because she hadn't eaten. Maybe she hadn't eaten because she didn't feel like getting out of bed, or maybe it was because she didn't have anything to eat because she hadn't been to the store since March, because she didn't feel like getting out of bed.

She didn't feel like getting out of bed because she was exhausted.

This was the first time she'd missed a shift at the diner because of it. She told Cora she thought it was the stomach flu over the phone. The woman told her not to worry about coming in, and to take care of herself.

The problem was that Grace didn't know how to do that.

_But there's someone that does._

No matter how hard Grace tried to shove the thought away, it kept creeping up on her.

When she woke up from her second nap of the day, she thought about it. Thought about him, and all the times he'd gently coaxed her out of bed with a late breakfast. She could almost smell those blueberry pancakes. Her stomach let out a hollow groan, and for the first time in days, Grace was hungry.

There was no shame in asking for pancakes, she decided. Nothing out of the ordinary, either.

Besides, if she didn't respond to his messages soon, she knew Collin would start to worry anyway. So it was probably better to call him now, and shower while she waited for him to drive to Forks. Maybe wash the sheets, too. She was sure they smelled- -lingering sweat and sour shampoo.

He picked up on the second ring, "Hello?"

Grace opened her mouth, ready to tell Collin about the blueberries preserved in her freezer, but closed it, frowning to herself.

"Grace?"

She was making him anxious, but Grace couldn't summon a smile to brighten her tone. Couldn't find the cheerful greeting she knew would ease him. Her breath was heavy, and her voice was rough with disuse when she finally broke the tense silence, "Remember when I said I'd tell you if I wasn't doing okay?"

**April 26, 2017 / 9:55 p.m. **

Collin had stayed for three days.

He was carefully composed when she opened the door for him. Too neutral for it to be natural. And short-lived- -his eyes moved slowly over her, and when they finally met hers, there was a silent question reflecting in them. She didn't have an answer, just a feeble shrug.

Collin turned the shower on for her, a gentle nudge. If Grace knew anything about men, it was that they showered in lukewarm water, so she turned up the heat before getting in, and again once her hair was wet. Steam started to fill the room, and her skin numbed to the heat. She turned it up some more. She stood without shampooing or shaving or scrubbing until she started to sway and the shelf of soaps and creams shifted in and out of focus. Then she sat. She turned up the water. Faintly over the sound of the water, Grace could hear the clatter of Collin washing the dishes.

By the time she got out, her skin was radiantly pink, the outlines of her body hazy with steam. She didn't soothe it with lotion, or comb out her hair before slipping one of Collin's old t-shirts over her head.

Collin was stretched out across her bed, which had been remade with fresh sheets. He didn't say anything when she curled up on his chest and drifted back to sleep.

When she woke up, Collin was running his fingers through her hair. She figured he must have been doing it the entire time she was asleep, because when she sat up, it fell over her shoulders in smooth, shiny waves. She tucked a strand behind her ear and smiled shyly at him, "Hi."

"Are you hungry?"

She shrugged. She was mostly tired. Still.

Collin still started making pancakes, watching Grace where she sat cross-legged on the counter more than the mixing bowl in his giant, careful hands. They still turned out perfect. Grace picked one off the steaming stack, dropped it onto her plate, and drowned it in syrup. She only ate half of it, pushing the rest around her plate with her fork and squishing the juice out of each blueberry- -one at a time.

She had almost reduced the pancake to mush when she glanced up at Collin, who, only in her moment of distraction had let the worry sink into his face, stretch his lips thin and burrow between his brows. In this light, she could see the shadows under his eyes.

But then he noticed her looking, and it was gone. It didn't matter, though, because while the small smile he was now offering her had smoothed out the worried lines around his eyes, they were still etched in Grace's mind. When she got up to take their plates to the sink, she leaned over him and kissed each one.

The next few days passed similarly. Grace didn't talk much- -she didn't know what to say- -and Collin didn't pressure her to. He cringed quietly through episodes of _Criminal Minds, _squeezing her tighter every time something bad happened. It reminded Grace of a child seeking comfort from a teddy bear, so purely human.

He was holding her like that again now, with the door open behind him, and Grace knew he was struggling to make himself walk through it. His eyes flickered from her to the clock hanging above the kitchen sink.

"It's okay if you have to go. You've done enough." She smiled, "I'm feeling better."

It wasn't a lie, either. Just his quiet presence had done more for Grace than she could have expected. As if to prove it to him, she took a long pull of water from the cup in her hand. Collin smiled in return, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Really," she pressed. "Go. I'll be okay."

But then Grace was shutting the door behind him and turning the lock. She leaned against it, sighing as she slid down the wood until she was just a pile of bones on the floor. Just like that, Collin was gone and there was nothing to hold her together anymore.

The thought was terrifying, and exactly why she shouldn't have let him get too close. She'd tried to explain it, how she didn't want to like him too much. To come to rely on him like this. But it was too late, because instead of pulling herself up from the wreckage, Collin had simply carried her away. She couldn't stand on her own legs, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she grew too heavy in his arms.

She also knew he would rather endure it- -both his pain and hers- -than put her back down.

_**April 30, 2017 / 3:38 p.m. **_

Grace took one look at him on her doorstep, then said, "You should break up with me."

His arms, which were already poised to reel her in, fell to his sides. Not at the words, but the way she said them, the look on her face. Grace was staring at him, eyes just a little too heavy to be blank. And they were unreadable. Collin searched them desperately, mind reeling, searching, but everything was suddenly so abstract.

Just shapes and spaces- -her shadow stretching along the wall, as tangible as she had been these last few days, and every minute between each short text from her. Grace's body and the impenetrable two feet between them. His own body- -something inside him was unravelling. He took a deep breath to calm himself, stitch his lungs back together.

"Do you _want _me to break up with you?" He cringed at the sound of his own voice.

"Of course not," she whispered. Her eyes were big and imploring, trying to get him to understand.

But he didn't. This didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. Collin figured that if he wasn't so numb from the shock, this would hurt. "Then why would you even bring it up?"

The whites of her eyes were splintered with red and watery, but Grace didn't look sad. Honestly, she was looking at him like he was stupid. "Last week?"

Collin swallowed against the lump rising in his throat. _Last week._ As if he could have forgotten those three days spent with Grace's ghost so easily. True to its nature, it was haunting him. Somehow, this was better than watching her moving through the apartment like a whisper. The fog in her eyes.

"I'm not… I'm not good for you." She said. Her voice was small, and wavering, but as she spoke, she got louder, more animated, "What you just saw? That wasn't a one time thing, Collin. I'm always going to be like this: going up and down, pushing you away and pulling you back in- -just like the ocean. Do you really think you can swim your whole life?"

He set his jaw, "Yes."

A long sigh, "Collin- -"

"Don't I get a say?" He interrupted, voice and heartbeat rising. Grace's eyes widened, and it occurred to Collin that this was the first time he'd ever raised his voice against her. Then again, this was the first time she'd ever made him feel unheard.

She didn't want to listen to him- -she didn't have to. Because Grace had already made up her mind. He couldn't help but notice the way she was looking at him. As if she was making a sacrifice.

"You wanna know what I think?" He pressed on, not giving her a chance to answer. "I don't think this is about protecting me," Grace's head shot up, eyes flaring with protest, but Collin blazed on, "You're not pushing me away because you're sad_, _Grace. You're pushing me away because you're scared.

"Because what if you did let me in- -what if you let _anyone _in, and they saw every part of you, and they still walked away? But you wouldn't blame them, would you? How could you? Because why would anybody want to deal with that kind of mess, right?"

Grace flinched. Looking so broken in that second that Collin wanted to take it all back, swear he hadn't meant it. But here's the thing: he did mean it. Grace's depression wasn't a weapon; she was using it as a shield. He didn't look at her again- -he couldn't- -before letting himself out of her apartment and hurling the door closed behind him. He could hear it rattling against its frame as he stalked to his car.

**May 1, 2017 / 8:19 p.m.**

Collin was right. Grace was afraid.

She was afraid he would stay and cut himself on all of her sharp edges.

She was afraid he would stay and realize she wasn't worth bleeding for.

**May 3, 2017 / 6:00 p.m. **

Collin lived in a small house on the reservation that overlooked the Pacific with his friends Brady and Seth. Grace had only been there a few times, mostly because of the lack of privacy. But the fact that there was only one bathroom was a considerable factor. The thought of using it gave her nightmares.

But right now, it was the driveway that was scary. The path leading to the porch. The door. Whatever was on the other side of it. Grace sat in the safety of her car with the engine still running and her seatbelt still secure- -half ready to turn around.

What was she doing here anyway? It wasn't like Collin wanted to talk to her. He never went a day without at least sending her a quick text to check in, or to say good morning. Until now. And Grace couldn't decide if he was trying to give her a taste of her own medicine, or if she'd really hurt him that bad.

The realization hit her like a swift kick- -it wasn't in Collin's nature to be petty.

With a deep breath, Grace cut the engine and got out of the car.

Before Grace could even think about knocking on the door, Brady was already opening it. He stared down at her with crossed arms and a surly expression, "He's not here."

Grace's mouth turned up at the corner in a politely uncomfortable greeting. She wondered how much Collin had told his roommates about what had happened, because clearly, Brady wasn't happy to see her.

But he didn't stop her when she ducked past him and started down the hall toward Collin's room.

"I'm here to apologize," she said over her shoulder, "So you can call off the dogs."

She took the amused snort as a peace offering.

Collin's room was behind the last door on the right, and looked exactly like what you would expect a boy's room in his first place to look like. Spartan, but still managing to be a little messy. It was a little too small for the king sized mattress in the corner, with no bed frame. Judging by the pristine white corner that had somehow escaped the confines of the navy sheets, it was brand new. Instinctively, Grace bent over to fix it before wandering past the bed to his bookshelf.

Only the bottom two shelves had books on them. The other three housed picture frames, a dusty old baseball glove, a few matchbox cars, some still in their boxes. All but one of the _Harry Potter _books were stacked in the corner of the bottom shelf, the rest of his collection was wedged in next to the series: short and skinny chapter books with titles like _Million Dollar Throw _and _Heat_, undoubtedly from grade school, a photo book featuring vintage cars, nineties fantasy and science fiction. She ran her fingers along the spines until she came across a title she recognized and pulled it off the shelf.

Her heart swelled a little, and Grace wasn't sure if it was because she was reunited with a book that was such a big piece of her, or if it was the idea that Collin shared that piece with her.

Grace took the liberty of readjusting a few of Collin's pillows so she could lean against the wall. The sheets were warm from the open window and smelled like him. She curled up, flicked on the bedside lamp and opened the book, careful not to crack the spine. She was almost a hundred pages in before she heard the door open.

It took a moment for the jungles of Vietnam to fade away and reveal Collin standing halfway in the hallway, looking at her with a sort of cautious curiosity. Like he was afraid to get too close.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, holding it up so he could see the cover of _The Things They Carried_, "This is one of my favorites."

He nodded in the doorway. If not for that slight inclination of his chin, he looked like a statue. Arms crossed defensively over his chest, a heavy gaze. Finally, he said, "I haven't read it yet."

"It's all so horrible." She put the book down, "But the writing steals my breath every time."

"So, you came to raid my bookshelf?"

Grace shook her head slowly. She came because until the door slammed behind Collin that day, she thought she was used to feeling empty. She came because she's felt a little lost since then and it was only a matter of time before she stumbled back home.

"No, I'm here to apologize."

**May 7, 2017 / 4:17 a.m. **

"Collin," Grace whispered, her voice a weak rasp. Barely awake-just enough to realize that she was melting. The darkness still clung to the heat of what had been the first truly hot afternoon of the year. The warm breeze from the open window offered little reprieve from Collin's sweltering embrace.

When he didn't respond, she started to wriggle under him. She couldn't free herself, but she was able to wedge one of her sweat-slicked palms between her chest and his shoulder. Like a furnace, as always. She shook him lightly, and he let out a snore.

"Collin," she repeated, louder this time, and punctuating it by giving his sleeping form a deft shove. He didn't budge.

He did, however, grumble unintelligibly into the crook of her neck.

"Get off," she ordered.

"Hmm?"

"I said, _get off me_-you're too hot."

She felt his smile against her sticky skin, and rolled her eyes at the ceiling, "You know what I mean."

She was going to kill him, provided that he didn't boil her alive first.

Collin lifted himself up, and kissed Grace on the forehead before rolling over and scooting to the other side of the mattress.

Before he started snoring again, she heard him sigh, "Whatever you say, G."

_**May 15, 2017 / 4:19 p.m. **_

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes skittered from the floor to the door, out the window, back to the floor.

"I- -" Colin didn't know what to say. He closed his eyes, scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He could list several why he hadn't told her. He needed to make sure she wouldn't take this information straight to the _Times _or the _Post. _

But more than that, he wanted to give the imprint time to sink its teeth, and leave a mark on her. So he would become a part of her, and she wouldn't want to leave it behind. Because he was a selfish bastard.

Instead, he said, "It didn't seem…important."

Grace's head shot up. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving, mouth slightly agape. "You can't be serious."

She didn't grow up here, where the howl of a wolf was a reminder that she was protected. To her, it was a warning. This was all new and… _scary_, he realized. Her heart was racing and he could smell salt in the air from her sweat. Her teeth pierced her bottom lip.

"But… I'm still me." The words were nearly a whisper, and the first honest thing he'd said since the beginning of this conversation.

He put his fingers under her chin so she would look at him and see all of it. He wanted her to look in his eyes and remember the taste of blueberry pancakes at midnight, the sound of morning voices, and the way their fingers fit together. As soon as his knuckles brushed the soft skin of her throat, Grace went rigid. Something twisted in Colin's chest when he saw her eyes screw shut, her fists curl in so tightly her knuckles turned white. She was forcing herself not to flinch, holding her breath with the effort.

He wanted to trace his hand across her face to smooth out the worried lines. His fingers skimmed slowly along her jaw, and before he could decide whether or not to continue, Grace's hand flew to her throat, where his fingers had just been and clamped around it. She held her hand there for a moment, then let it trail up her cheek, wedging it between her face and his fingers.

"_Emily_." It came out breathless and shaky. She took a step backwards and his hand fell away. He let it fall limply at his side, and strangled every instinct to be close to her. To hold her until she stopped shaking.

"It's not- -" He started, but the words died on his tongue. He couldn't lie to her anymore; it was _exactly_ what she thought. The scars Emily Young bore did not come from a bear, and Colin couldn't explain that away, or pretend the very same thing couldn't happen to him.

The thought rages through him like a wildfire, destroying everything in its wake. He could not promise Grace, or himself, that he would never hurt her. Flames licked his spine, the white heat consuming him all the way to the tips of his fingers. Colin looked down at his hands, just to be sure they weren't actually on fire.

There was no smoke, no flames. Just his hands, balled into fists, and _vibrating_. He stared at the blur of them, nearly paralyzed by panic. The only movement he could make was involuntary and getting worse, he could feel his shoulders start to convulse.

Grace was still in front of him, her face drained of all color. Wide eyes grazed over him only once before she was fumbling back, tripping over her own feet in her haste until she hit the wall. Grace slid down it until she was on the floor with her knees against her chest, hands securing her body into the smallest possible position.

The sight of it made everything- -the shaking, his heart, the world- -stop.

As much as he wanted to, he did not move toward her. Instead, he dropped to his knees so he was no longer towering over her.

"Grace, please." When he spoke, his voice was a rough whisper. He tried to swallow it away, but he still sounded hollow when he begged, "Don't be afraid of me."

**May 18, 2017 / 3: 21 a.m. **

"What did he tell you, Gracie?"

"I... it's not my secret to tell. It's just- -" Grace frowned. "I don't know. It changes things."

"He's not, like, a killer or anything?"

"No, nothing like that." At least, not of the living. She was to explain the situation without revealing the truth about Collin without underplaying the situation. "And it's not so much the _secret_ as it is the fact that he kept it for so long. While being pissed at me for not being a fucking transparent window all the damn time."

Although the secret itself was still an issue. Grace read about this kind of thing; she didn't live in it.

In the background, she heard car doors and his 2001 Nissan roar to life.

As soon as he answered, he argued that it was too early to be _dealing with your bullshit_, but Grace knew he would be on the way to morning weights, and was already up when she called. She felt a little bad, but their parents always credited him for being the more level-headed of the two of them. She could use some advice, even if it came from a junior in high school.

"Look," Isaac sighed. "I don't really understand what's going on, but you opened up to him about your depression, and he wanted it to stay that way because he cares. So now he's honoring that and opening up to you. So what if it took him a while to tell you? If it's as big of a deal as you're making it out to be- -which I doubt it is, then- -"

He might have had a point. So instead of letting him finish, she said, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're very dramatic," he deadpanned.

"Am not."

She could practically hear him rolling his eyes through the phone, and despite everything, it made her smile a little.

"Okay fine," he said with such decisiveness that the smile immediately slipped away. "It is some big life-altering secret that affects the welfare of the natural world…"

His tone- -rising and falling in exaggerated swoops, like one of those televangelists giving a passionate sermon on local TV- -was mocking, but the words themselves were disturbingly accurate.

"... then can you really blame him for not telling you until he trusted you?"

After he hung up, Grace pouted at the ceiling. There was really nothing quite as humbling as being put in your place by your kid brother.

**May 19, 2017 / 8:11 p.m. **

Grace wasn't sure she was going to call him until the phone was already pressed against her ear, ringing decisively. He might be busy. _Patrolling_, as he'd called it. Before she'd freaked out.

She should just hang up now. He could call her back when he had thumbs again.

"Hello?"

_Oh no_.

"Hey."

"Is everything okay?" He said it slowly, like he wasn't sure what else to say. As if the only reason he could think for Grace to be calling him was if something was wrong. Her stomach twisted at the sound of it.

"Yeah," she assured quickly. "I just wanted to apologize. For the other day."

Something like a relieved sigh echoed through the receiver, but he said. "No, Grace. You have nothing to- -"

"I wouldn't even hear you out," she interrupted, only vaguely aware that she was doing it again now.

"To be fair, I wouldn't have heard me out, either."

Grace frowned. He was still hurting; she could hear it. She knew it was in Collin's nature to sweep things under the rug for the sake of others, even if it meant to tripping over them later. She wasn't going to allow it today.

"You looked so…" She trailed off, not sure if she could even put a word to the look on his face that day.

There was a long, painful pause. Like Collin didn't know what to call it either.

"I don't want to see you like that again." On his knees, the world's weight on his shoulders.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me," he countered.

"I am," she admitted quietly. "Just a little."

"I understand."

"But I still… I want to…" She didn't know what she wanted. But she thought about these seemingly endless days that had passed, and how quiet they were. She knew what she didn't want: to go through another one like it. "I miss you."

"Grace," he said, and it sounded like a warning.

"What?" Did he not want to see her too?

More silence. Heavy silence.

A rough whisper, "I can't promise it won't happen again."

"I know."

He was arguing with himself. She didn't have to be standing in front of him to picture the crinkle between his eyebrows or hear the anxious popping of his knuckles. She cringed at the thought of it.

"I'm on my way."

**May 19, 2017 / 11:41 p.m. **

"How many times are you going to let me do this to you?"

"Do what?"

"Change my mind. Run and hide."

"You want me to give you a number?"

"No, I just want… I want to know why you still believe in me."

**May 22, 2017 / 9:52 p.m. **

Grace pulled away from Collin abruptly, huffing in frustration. He looked up at her, brows wrinkled, but she just pushed herself off of his lap and flopped onto the bed beside him. She crossed her arms self-consciously over her chest, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and exposed. Collin stretched a long arm to the floor beside the bed, depositing his soft gray t-shirt in her lap.

The gesture was reflexive and thoughtful, and it only made her feel worse.

"I'm sorry," she groaned, the words muffled by the shirt as she pulled it over her head. She thought about leaving it there so he couldn't look at her when she continued, as childish as that would be.

"Grace," he started quietly, after a moment of silence. "If I pushed you too far…"

Grace popped out from behind the shirt, "No. No, it's nothing you did."

She held his gaze as he searched her face. Finally, he nodded.

"It's me." She felt as though her face was on fire as she plowed on, "Well, actually, it's my meds. They, uh, well-one of the side effects is loss of, y'know... libido? And that's never really been enough of a problem to change scripts because the new side effects might be worse. I mean, I used to take one that made me throw up. But now it sucks, because as much as I _want_ to want t-"

Collin cut her off with a kiss, soft and delicate, and so different from the one they'd just shared. He dropped another one on her forehead. "It's okay."

His voice was warm and reassuring, but something about the swiftness of it was unsettling, and Grace found herself frowning down at her hands as she attempted to distract herself from the insecurity prickling her skin by picking at a hangnail.

"Unless… you don't want that."

"_What?_" The word came out so fast, it almost sounded like he was choking on it.

Grace's head snapped up to meet Collin's wide eyes. "Grace I- -you have no idea how much I want that- -want you." He stared at her intently, giving her a pretty good idea. Her cheeks flared. "But that's not all I care about, so don't apologize."

She shrugged, not looking at him, and wishing things were different.

Collin caught her chin between his thumb and his finger, turning it back so she was looking at him. He smoothed his thumb over her skin, and she let her face relax into his touch.

**May 26, 2017 / 8:30 a.m. **

Grace woke to the sound of the rain, clinking softly against the glass of the small window in her apartment, the side of the house, and let out a contented sigh. She hadn't tired of it yet. Grace loved the rain, especially when she didn't have to go out in it. But just because she loved the rain, it didn't mean she'd stopped loving the sunshine, illuminating the endless Midwestern sky and warming her back, even as a Northern breeze swept through her hair.

She closed her eyes, half expecting to feel it. Instead, she felt a sharp twist of longing in her stomach.

It hurt Grace almost as much as it surprised her, to miss home. It hurt to realize how easy it had been to forget about her bed in front of the window and waking up to a sunbeam warming her cheeks, and the old buildings she had her classes in with their uneven granite steps and cavernous halls. She missed only an hour away from her parents and Isaac.

Collin made it easy to forget about who she was, and what she'd left behind.

And maybe it was was a fair trade. Smiles no longer strained her cheeks, and she gave them more freely than ever before. She was forgetting what it was like to feel cold.

But then, maybe it wasn't. As much as Collin had started to feel like home, he couldn't replace it. The realization was almost startling: she wanted more.

Grace opened her laptop, fingers clicking restlessly across the keys while she waited for it to wake up. Then, for the first time in months, she logged into the university email account, clicked on her advisor's contact, and started to write.

_**May 29, 2017 / 5:38 p.m. **_

As Jared was preparing to drop back and pass the football to Embry, Paul lunged at him. The resulting throw was sloppy at best, wiggling through the air and into Grace's hands. Never meant for her, the ball was high above her head, and bobbled between her fingertips for an anxious second before she pulled it to her chest and started running.

Collin pushed against Embry, who was now trying to get ahold of Grace.

She couldn't compete with the speed of her opposing teammates, but Paul could. Instead of trying to block them all, he scooped Grace up into his arms, and took off in a sprint across the grass. Grace clutched onto the football, and laughed with Paul at the sound of the other boys' protests.

Collin didn't mind. They were on the same team, so he just watched with a bemused smile as Paul put Grace back down in what they'd decided to be the end-zone. She held up her hand for a high five, wincing a little as their palms made contact.

As he squared up for the next play, Grace startled him by playfully smacking his ass, as if they were in a high school locker room.

"Good game," she said with a wicked smirk, and a wink over her shoulder before falling in line next to Paul. His fellow teammates whooped and whistled, sending a hot flush up Collin's neck and over his ears.

He almost didn't notice Jared shouting, "HIKE."

Despite the fact Brady was twice her size, Grace coiled and sprung fearlessly into his path as soon as Jared flicked it to him. It was probably his own momentum that sent him to the ground, Grace splayed out on top of him.

Brady lifted her off of him effortlessly, and as he rose back onto his feet, he tossed her over his shoulder.

"Not so tough now, are ya, Gracie?" He was asking, but Grace couldn't answer because he'd started spinning around. Even for all of her thrashing, Brady had a secure grip on her ankles. All she could do was laugh and beg for Collin to help her.

He couldn't bring himself to interfere right away, not when she was smiling like that. Her cheeks were shot with color, her hair was falling in chaotic, spindly waves out of her braids, and she looked so alive.


End file.
